Four times Wildwing carried Nosedive
by ghostmadlittlemiss
Summary: The full title is 'Four times Wildwing carried Nosedive, and one time it was the other way around', but apparently that's too long. A fic about our favourite cartoon anthropomorphic Duck brothers inspired by The Hollies 'He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother.'
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer – the Mighty Ducks belong to Disney, not me, for what it's worth. And I've slightly expanded the psychological theory of imprinting in the first part of this story. As ducklings on Earth start eating food straight after being born (well, after a day, they don't eat for the first day, apparently) instead of being fed on milk like mammals are, my theory is that our alien counterparts are the same and therefore, they would imprint on the first person they saw as their primary caregiver, rather than their mother. Which cuts out any adorable-but-creepy-as-hell 'motherWildwing' stuff. And as to why the female members of the Mighty Ducks have breasts, answers on a postcard please. :D My theory is it's a sexual thing. ;)

This fanfic is largely inspired by the Hollies song, 'He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother', which if you ask me is pretty much the theme song for these two. :) If you haven't heard it, go to Youtube and look it up, now. It's a beautiful song and the comments section for the first entry of it on Youtube will make you cry like a baby. *Spoiler alert* That section inspired the last chapter of this fic, which I already have planned out in my head. *End spoiler alert* Now, enough of my waffling, go read the story!

**Four times Wildwing carried Nosedive, and one time it was the other way around.**

**#1**

Crack! The noise reverberated around the silent flat, startling the eight year old Duck sat on his bed, reading a comic. It had come from his t-shirt drawer. 'About time', he thought, jumping up to open the drawer. The library book hidden under his bed, which had gone into graphic detail on the process ahead, said this should have started four days ago. If it weren't for the warmth emitting from the egg the Duck then carefully scooped out of the drawer, he would've thought it was too late. Placing the egg on his bed and grabbing the towels he'd hidden in his room, the small, white feathered drake felt the stirrings of panic, mixed in with excitement. It was time. His baby sibling was on their way.

Sitting there in silence, the frightened Duck had plenty of time to think. This was going to take a while, the book had said. If you'd have told him a year ago that this would be happening to him, he'd have just laughed and gone back to his comic books. Loud, boisterous and immature, he was a typical young boy, full of energy and life. A little smaller than other Ducks his age but that was understandable. Everyone said he was lucky just to be alive. White Ducks were rare and hardly ever survived hatching. There were only a handful of them on Puckworld and they were largely regarded at best as disabled, at worst as second-class citizens. And that was before you even got to the kid's family. Teenage rebels who'd meet at school, they very quickly found themselves to be teenage parents. They tried their best at first, the father getting a job packing boxes in one of Puckworld's factories, but by the time their son had reached six, they were heavily involved in drink and drugs. How the boy's father kept his job, no one knew, but his mother just lay around the flat all day in a drug-induced stupor, leaving her son to fend for himself. She'd certainly not planned for another child, but accidents happen. Her first instinct had been to abandon her egg and leave it to go cold and die but her son had thwarted her efforts, hiding the egg in his room and keeping it warm. And now his hard work had paid off. The egg was about to hatch.

Another loud crack drew the Duck back to the present. There was a large split in the top of the egg and it was wobbling. He didn't know how long he'd been daydreaming for but he knew he didn't have long to wait now. And sure enough, before he had time to gather his thoughts the egg cracked open and out spilled a tiny baby drake, covered in blood and slime. 'Good job I remembered the towels', the boy thought, wrapping his brother up in them and lifting him into his arms nervously, unsure that he was doing it right. His brother's eyes were still closed and he personally thought he was quite ugly, with his little face screwed up and his eyes clamped shut. He didn't know if he was meant to feel anything, the baby book just talked about what the parents should expect to feel, but he just felt numb.

And then it happened. The little baby's eyes opened and looked straight into his. He didn't make a sound, just stared upwards at his older brother's face. And a wave of emotion overtook the older Duck. He sat down on his bed quickly, not losing eye contact even for a second. 'Is this imprinting?' he thought. 'I thought it was just meant to be him that did that. But I don't want anyone else looking after him now. He's my responsibility and I'm going to take care of him.' Maybe it's melodramatic to say this but to an outside observer viewing this scene, it would seem that the loud, immature child died within the boy then and an adult took his place. As his brother began to stir in his arms and softly cry, he stood up and paced up and down the small room, his baby brother resting against his shoulder, whispering softly to him. "It's ok, Nosedive," he whispered. "You're safe. I'm going to take care of you. I always will."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer – Disney owns the Mighty Ducks. I own Miranda Icefeather. My boyfriend owns Dresden Firewing, so blame that particular part of mis-guided characterisation on him. :) I'm not sure how he managed to talk me into including his character, I think it must be love.

Thank you to The Mighty Duck for their lovely review and their useful comment about not putting quotation marks around thoughts but italicising them instead. I've made sure to make use of that in this update. This chapter was getting a bit long so I've decided to spilt it into two parts. Hope you enjoy. Now go R + R!

**Four times Wildwing carried Nosedive, and one time it was the other way around.**

**#2 – Part 1**

The first sign Miranda Icefeather had that this wasn't going to be a peaceful day was the loudly swearing voice coming from an office down the corridor and making its way in her direction. Well, as peaceful a day as anyone ever got in one of Puckworld's busy Social Services offices. Underpaid and overworked, working for Social Services was a thankless job, without even having the generous private pension at the end of it that other public service jobs had. It was a job for those who actually cared enough about the at-risk children of Puckworld to want to help them and that number certainly wasn't high enough. In reality, it was mainly staffed by women, most of them working part-time around caring for their own children. And there was no question in their mind as to whose children came first. So for those staff that were actually in the job for compassionate reasons, rather than extra money and something to brag about at parties, the workload was very heavy indeed.

The owner of the voice stopped outside Miranda's office and a knock was heard.

"Come in," called Miranda, glancing up from her paperwork as a squat Duck with thinning red hair and grey feathers entered the room. Miranda recognised him instantly as Dresden Firewing, one of Social Services' few male members of staff. It was quite hard not to recognise Dresden, he was a very distinctive Duck. His red hair was very obviously dyed, with hints of the underlying grey it was covering showing through. He told anyone who would listen that it was dyed in honour of a long-ago ancestor who had fought against the Saurians in the days of the Invasion, though he never provided anyone with the name of this ancestor. He was also never seen without a dark green silk scarf around his neck, despite it clashing horribly with his already alarming colouring, nor without a scuffed pair of peeling cowboy boots. And wherever he went, he was followed by the faint smell of cigarette smoke.

Dresden was working out the last week of his month's notice before leaving Social Services to go into politics in the hope of bringing greater equality to all Ducks. It was never openly spoken about but some members of staff whispered that there was a certain type of equality that Dresden was mainly interested in. Outside of work, he was rarely seen out of the company of a handsome, male Duck who had recently been discharged from the military for 'dishonourable conduct'. On Puckworld, being gay was extremely taboo and no one would dare be open about it but to the whisperers, Dresden was, without words, shouting it from the rooftops. It wasn't always this way but ever since Drake DuCaine's gay best friend had betrayed him to the Saurians after having his advances spurned, resulting in the great hero's death just after the Saurians' defeat, homosexuality became a crime once again on Puckworld and remained that way right to the present day. Miranda hoped that Dresden wouldn't be stupid enough to openly declare his sexuality, if that were the case, but with him no one could ever be too sure.

"What's the matter?" asked Miranda. "I heard shouting."

"The police, that's what's the matter," replied Dresden, gesturing angrily. "We tell them everything, we have to by law, and we get nothing in return, even when it might save lives if they just told us what was going on! I'm telling you, Miranda, when I'm in charge, things are going to be different around here!" His tone then softened and he looked at Miranda directly. "You've got a pair of angels to pick up later."

"What?" Miranda exclaimed. ' "Why?" she continued. "No one told me about any children."

"Well, I'm telling you now," said Dresden. "You know that hovercar crash two weeks ago? The one in that huge blizzard we had?" Miranda nodded in reply. Dresden hesitated and took a nervous drag from his cigarette holder, clearly not wanting to be the first to bring this news to his colleague. "I'm sorry, Miranda. It was the Drakefire's hovercar. Those two little boys have been on their own for two weeks. They couldn't have survived."

Miranda lowered her head as she took in the news. "Thanks, Dresden. I'll take it from here."

"Anytime," he replied, leaving the room. Miranda rested her head in her hands, trying not to cry. She had to deal with thousands of cases like this, it was her job, and sometimes they just couldn't help the children in time. Her mind drifted back to the first time she'd seen the two boys together, just one, short year ago.

(Flashback starts)

"Hello?" she called, knocking on the door of the Drakefire's flat and trying to get her breath back. The flat was on the 14th floor of a very tall block and as per usual, the lift was broken. The only other route up to the flat was by the metal staircase that ran up the outside of the building. Treacherously slippery in Puckworld's icy conditions, it was a wonder that none of the block's residents had been killed falling on their way up or down the stairs, though bruises and the odd broken bone were common. At last, the door opened, to revel a small, eight year old, white feathered Duck standing just inside.

"Hello, Wildwing," Miranda began, but the boy shushed her before she could get any further."

"Quiet," he whispered, "He's sleeping."

"Your father?" she replied in the same quiet tone. "But isn't he at work?" She was unable to think of another 'he' the boy could be referring to.

"No, not him." Wildwing said. "Come in, I'll show you. But be quiet."

Miranda followed the young boy inside, marvelling at how healthy he looked. Yes, he was quite thin for his age but that was to be expected, given his condition. But for a white feathered Duck, he bore no signs of outward disability. In fact, if it weren't for his feathers, she wouldn't know he was any different to any other child on Puckworld. They reached the boy's room and he pushed open the door carefully. As they entered, Miranda was shocked by the difference. The last time she'd visited, the room was exactly the kind of squalid mess that was to be expected of the room of a young boy who'd never been asked to tidy up. But now everything was put away neatly. Even the bed was made. _What kind of boy makes his own bed at that age? _thought Miranda. This was very strange indeed. Gesturing for her to come closer, the boy knelt down besides his chest of drawers, looking down into his t-shirt drawer. And there, amongst the neatly folded t-shirts, lay a baby duckling, no more than a few weeks old. The child was sleeping peacefully, unaware of his two visitors.Miranda's mind was a whirl. _When did the Drakefire's have another child? Surely I'd have seen the egg the last time I was here, _she thought.

"Who's that?" she asked the boy in front of her.

"He's mine," Wildwing replied. "My brother, I mean. His name's Nosedive." Miranda didn't miss the slip. The boys' parents were clearly having nothing to do with their youngest son. But she knew her hands were tied. Under Puckworld law, a child couldn't be removed from their biological parents unless there was clear signs of neglect and the baby boy couldn't have looked healthier if Miranda had been raising him herself. _Sure, his brother looks thin, _she thought, _but that'll be his condition. _When a Duck was born with white feathers, it meant that part of their genetics hadn't developed properly and therefore they often grew up smaller, weaker and generally less able than the rest of the population. Though she'd heard rumours through her brother, who worked in a medical research facility, that these differences were becoming less and less apparent throughout the years. According to him, white feathered Ducks were becoming more and more 'normal' with each new birth and his theory was that one day soon, one would be born who would be physically and mentally indistinguishable from their peers by anything other than their colouring. Miranda doubted he was right though. _It would be a lovely idea, _she thought, _but it's just as much of a fairy tale as Drake DuCaine's Mask. _

Reporting back to her boss later on, she got exactly the response she expected. The boys seemed healthy and well looked after and so they were able to stay with their family. Miranda made a point of switching off from work when she got home, she'd go mad otherwise, but today was different. Try as she might, she just couldn't get the look of pride and love on Wildwing's face as he looked down at his sleeping brother out of her head.

(Flashback ends)

Author's Note – Ooh, suspense! How do the brothers survive? And yes, I know that their last name is actually Flashblade, they're going to get adopted later on. I don't know if I'll mention that detail in a future chapter, so I'm telling you here instead. The next half of this chapter might not be up until the New Year, I'm going home for Christmas tomorrow so I don't know how much time I'll have to write for a while. I hope you enjoyed this update. Don't forget to review!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer – The Mighty Ducks are the property of Disney. I own my original characters, nothing else. I'm a penniless student with nothing worth being sued for.

Sorry for the wait, everyone. I've been agonising over this chapter quite a bit as it really does mean a lot to me. This is my personal favourite part of the whole story and the one I planned out first. I hope I can do credit to the idea without lapsing into too much purple prose. However, you should all be able to see the references to the song in this chapter. For extra effect, imagine the harmonica solo for the climbing scene with the two brothers. :) And thank you to The Mighty Duck for another lovely review.

**Four times Wildwing carried Nosedive, and one time it was the other way around.**

**#2 – Part 2**

It was late in the evening and pitch black as Miranda headed to the Drakefire's apartment in the back of a police hovercar. The vehicle cruised steadily through the quiet streets, only occasionally stopping for traffic signals. The siren wasn't needed. There was nothing to rush for. Miranda watched as the streetlights cast their orange glow onto the thick layer of ice along the hovercar's path, reflecting the light and making the road ahead glisten like a thousand fiery jewels. It was a beautiful sight but no one in the vehicle cared. _Those poor boys, _Miranda thought. _They'll never see a night like this again. _

A few moments later, the hovercar parked next to the tall apartment building and everyone got out and began to slowly climb the steep, slippery staircase. The further up the stairs they climbed, the worse condition the lights were in, going from a bright glow on the first 5 or so floors to a headache-inducing flicker on the next 5 floors up. After the 10th floor, the lights had gone altogether, either burnt out and never replaced or smashed by vandals. Torches were switched on and the group continued up the stairs, not a word spoken by any. Their breaths fogged in the freezing night air as they climbed higher still. A bitter wind blew as they climbed, causing Miranda to shiver under her jacket. Though whether that was from the cold or the sound, she couldn't tell. She glanced back at the policemen following up the stairs to see their reactions but they seemed utterly unaffected. As it blew, the wind whistled through the cracks and joints of the stairs and moaned as it rushed past her. It was an eerie, feather-raising sound. Miranda wasn't usually one for being poetic but she couldn't help but think that the wind was the sound of all the poor souls who had lived and died in that very building unnoticed and unloved. She shivered again, pulling her jacket closer. _Pull yourself together, girl, _she sternly thought. _There's enough reason for us all to be feeling morbid tonight without you adding to it. It's just the wind. _

At last, they reached the Drakefire's door. Despite knowing what they would find inside, they were required to knock and wait before breaking the door down. One of the policemen stepped forward and knocked sharply on the door. The sound reverberated through the night, sounding as if it should be heard miles away. After a few moments, he knocked again. Still no answer. He nodded to one of his colleagues and with a sharp kick, the door flew open.

The sight that met Miranda's eyes temporarily took her breath away. The once filthy, squalid flat had been cleaned from top to bottom. The sink sparkled and a faint lemony smell of cleaning fluids lingered in the air. Opening the small fridge, she found it nearly empty but the few items of food still in there had been recently bought. _Someone's been living in this flat, _thought Miranda. _And it hasn't been long since they left._

Suddenly, the silence was broken by a scraping sound coming from the bottom of the stairs outside. At the same time, the group of policemen, who had been searching the rest of the small flat, returned to the living room/kitchen.

"No sign of the boys," one of them said, his tone flat and businesslike. "And the rest of the flat is tidy too." Miranda's mind reeled with shock. _Could it be? _she thought, hope rising in her like a bubble, delicate, expecting to be popped. The scraping sound continued, coming very gradually closer, as if a sharp object was being dragged along each of the metal steps leading up the side of the building. Miranda rushed to the door and looked down the steps. The sight she saw would stay with her until her dying day.

For, 10 floors or so below her, a familiar, white-feathered boy was slowly climbing the stairs. In each hand was a heavy looking bag full of groceries. Hooked around his right wrist was a snow shovel, which was what was making the noise as it scraped and banged against each step. And, strapped against his body in a baby sling, was his little brother. Miranda suddenly realised how the two boys had survived. Wildwing must've spent the whole day shovelling snow from people's paths and driveways, as so many of Puckworld's children do for their pocket money, in order to buy food for himself and his brother. And in order to have survived this long, he must've been doing this every day for the last two weeks, ever since his parents' deaths on the first day of the winter holidays. _If only he'd still been at school, _thought Miranda. _That way, we'd have noticed long before this. _

As Miranda watched, frozen to the spot by shock, Wildwing continued to make his way slowly up the stairs, weighed down under the combined weight of the bags, the shovel and his brother. He swayed on the spot as he reached the 10th floor, staring up at the next 4 floors of steep, icy steps with tired, pain-filled eyes. For a second, it looked as if he would fall backwards but he regained his balance. Still, he looked too tired to take another step. A bright, full moon came out from behind the clouds, colouring the steps ahead of him brilliant, shining silver. His ragged breath carried up the stairs as he tried desperately to draw together the strength to climb the last 4 floors to his parents' flat. Then suddenly, his brother stirred against his chest. Wildwing looked down at the tiny child attached to him and two pairs of identical blue eyes locked onto each other. Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, he continued to climb.

_How is he doing it? _Miranda thought, as the boy continued his slow assent of the steep stairs below her. _He's 8 years old, 9 in a few months. And he's...like he is. Where is he getting the strength?_ Wildwing's legs trembled as he continued to climb, looking as if they wouldn't take the weight much longer. But his eyes never left his brother's and the soft sound of his voice carried up the stairs.

"That's it," he said. "You just keep looking at me and I'll keep walking." Tears flooded Miranda's eyes as she heard those words, spilling hot down her cheeks and dripping onto her jacket. Again, she glanced at the policemen flanking her on the landing, sure that she'd see tears in their eyes as well. But the scene below them didn't seem to move them at all. In fact, one was leaning casually against the wall, drumming his fingers on the handrail as if wishing the two brothers would just hurry up and get to their level. _How can they be so cold? _Miranda thought. _I know we're meant not to let this bother us, but this is too much to just not care about at all._

The look on Wildwing's face as he took each agonisingly laboured step was one of pure determination. He was telling the truth. He wouldn't give up, he wouldn't stop and he wouldn't put down the child held against him. As long as his brother was looking at him and needed to be carried, he would keep walking, no matter what it took. So, on they went.

As he reached the landing Miranda and the policemen were on, Wildwing finally noticed he had company. The trance that had held Miranda immobile for the boy's entire climb broke and she stepped forward. Wildwing smiled weakly at her.

"Here, let us help you," she said, as the policemen stepped forward as well and relived him of his bags and shovel, carrying them into the flat. _First kind thing they've done all night, _she thought, shocking herself with her venom. But when Miranda tried to take Nosedive out of the sling, Wildwing wrapped his arms around the duckling, refusing to let go.

"Here, let me take him," Miranda said, reaching again for the child. "He must be heavy." As long as she lived, she never forgot the look Wildwing gave her in return. She'd been scowled at by plenty of people, it was part of the job, but the look on the boy's face took her breath away. His eyes seemed to flash with anger and Miranda took a step back. _That look could send the entire Saurian war fleet running away screaming, _she remembered thinking.

"I can manage," he replied. "He's my brother."

Stepping into the flat, Miranda watched as Wildwing began to put away the food he'd just bought, still not putting down his brother. Nosedive gurgled as the pair moved about and Wildwing smiled down at him. They were the absolute image of two picture perfect, loving family members, in sharp contrast to the chaos surrounding their lives. Miranda felt the tears well up in her eyes again and had to blink them away as Wildwing turned to speak to her.

"I don't mean to be rude," he started nervously, "but I wasn't expecting anyone and I've only got enough food for me and 'Dive. I'm really sorry." His cheeks burned red with shame as he began to stare at the floor and Miranda had to fight tears for a third time that night. Puckworld custom was that if a family had a visitor, the family had to provide the visitor with at the very least a meal if they were hungry. Anything less was considered extremely rude. If the visitor was staying the night, the head of the household would give them their bed and sleep elsewhere and, in some remote, nearly inaccessible parts of Puckworld, they would also give them their wife in the hope of bringing fresh blood to communities where inbreeding was common and to in the hope that any child resulting from the evening might be looked kindly on by the visitor in later life. The child was clearly deeply embarrassed that he couldn't provide even the most basic part of this custom to the group.

"We're not visitors," said Miranda softly. "We've come to take you away from here."

"Why?" Wildwing asked, beginning to pace the floor as his brother began to softly cry.

"Because your parents are dead," she replied. "You can't stay here alone, you're too young."

"Oh," he said, as the cries began to get gradually louder. "Shall I pack then?"

"Only sentimental things," Miranda replied. "Clothes will be provided at the orphanage."

"Ok, then I'm ready," said Wildwing and turned towards the door.

"Isn't there anything you want?" Miranda asked, "Anything from here that means anything to you?"

"I've already got what I need," he replied, "I'm ready."

The climb down was considerably easier than the one up. As the hovercar took off with the two brothers seated next to Miranda, she thought back on the events that had happened since she reached the flat. _I'd like to think I love my brother, _she thought, _but I could never do what Wildwing did tonight. That kid'll go far. _Before long, the vehicle pulled up outside the orphanage and Miranda guided the two boys inside. Passing the threshold, she shivered violently. There was an old Puckworld belief that a person experienced a moment of intense cold if they ever committed a deed that would condemn the innocent to suffering. As she stepped further into the building, all Miranda wanted to do was snatch up those two boys and carry them home with her when they'd be safe. _What's gotten into you today, Miranda? _she thought. _You don't do superstition. You'll be believing in Drake DuCaine's Mask next. Besides, we've sent hundreds of children here before and none of them have ever come up on an 'at-risk' list afterwards. In fact, most of them we've never heard from again._

After introducing the boys to the orphanage's matron, Miranda turned to leave. She'd dropped off countless children there before and never normally looked back but this time she did. As she watched, the matron guided the two boys upstairs, her hand gripping Wildwing's shoulder tightly. His frightened face was reflected in a mirror on the stairs and again, Miranda felt the sudden urge to steal the boys away from here. Suppressing it, she turned her back and walked out of the door. _I think I'm burning out, _she thought. _Maybe it's time to take a break, let someone else take the load. Maybe find a husband, get married, have my own kids and just worry about them for a bit. This is affecting me way too much. That's three times I've cried tonight. I'm a social worker. If I can't be strong for the kids, I'm no good to anyone._ But as she walked away from the building, she was unable to suppress the shiver that wracked her then, stronger than ever before.

Author's Note – Ooh, spooky! I've got to say, parts of this chapter didn't turn out as I planned them to. I never intended to add all the superstitious stuff into the story, it just came out. I wanted to show the fact that, deep down, Miranda knew the orphanage was the wrong place for the boys but she chose to ignore her instincts. But you'll have to wait until the next chapter to see why her instincts were right. I know, aren't I cruel? :D

The story about wives being shared with visitors was based on an old Norse custom in largely cut off areas. Plus, extra bonus points to anyone who mentions in their review the reference to a line in the show that's been thrown in, plus the reference to events in a future episode. Don't worry, I've tried to make them as easy as I can.


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